


Winter's Grasp

by Tweek_23



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Major Illness, Pre-New 52
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3753832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tweek_23/pseuds/Tweek_23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Facing his villain's growing brutality, Batman decides that he needs to be more active in attempting to rehabilitate his rouge's gallery, starting with Victor Fries.  Pre-New 52 continuity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter's Grasp

Wheels squeaked and bumped in protest as the orderlies pushed the vertical trolley down the hall. The yellowed light of the fluorescents flickered overhead, but even with armed guards behind them, nothing unnerved the two men more than the still, silent, scarred form tied down between them.

The elevator leading down to Extreme Incarceration boomed in the hollow tunnel, and the orderlies hesitated before stepping into the opening. They had no interest in being confined in a tiny metal box with a sociopath, but the overwhelming presence behind them pushed them forward.

The group piled into the elevator, and as the trolley turned around, Victor Zsasz's empty eyes bored into the Batman, and he smiled.

Eight new marks oozed just above Zsasz's pelvis, halfway sticking out of his pant line. He'd earned them for himself in the four November days since his escape from Arkham Asylum, posing the bodies of his victims around a Thanksgiving dinner table, the food rotting, maggots crawling over a man's hands, rigor mortis gripping tight the rusted knife Zsasz used to cut their throats.

The doors slammed open, and the orderlies pushed Zsasz's trolley past Batman. He fell into step behind them, his cape wrapped about his shoulders and falling down before his torso, the frame around the monster.

As they approached Zsasz's cell, Batman thought back to what he found in that house. Two men, two women, and four children. Zsasz had killed them one by one, using the rigor to maintain their positioning. It had taken nearly two days. When Batman finally caught him, Zsasz hadn't even wiped the blood off of his hands.

The guards opened the cell doors, and the orderlies pushed the trolley inside. As they turned it around, Zsasz was still smiling. The guards took their positions near the door, their guns trained on their prisoner. Batman waited in the doorway as the orderlies removed the straps tying Zsasz down.

The second the final binding was removed, Zsasz leapt off the trolley and onto one of the orderlies. "Give me the mark!" he screamed. "I need the mark!"

Lasers followed as they struggled, but Zsasz turned the orderly to protect himself. Batman flew into the room and grabbed Zsasz around the throat, slamming him into the back wall of the cell. A quick two-finger jab to the liver dropped Zsasz to the floor, retching and spitting up water. Batman followed up with a kick to his face, shattering his nose and knocking him out cold.

"Thank you, Batman," the orderly said, standing and rubbing his neck.

Batman turned around and stepped out of the cell. "Close it," he said. "And keep him here this time."

As he walked back through the block, Batman caught a chill from the cell to his left; his eyes scanned over to the frost-encrusted metal box, massive steel tubes funneling a constant stream of cold into the room.

Freeze.

Batman crossed the room and peered through the frosted window. Victor Fries sat on his icicled cot in a white tank top and pants, the blackened tips of his fingers wrapped around the base of a snow globe. Inside, the miniature figure of a woman twirled amidst the white flakes, the synthetic strands of her flaxen hair flowing in the water. Fries held the globe until the dancing woman slowed to a stop, the water around her freezing solid. He carried it over to the door, sliding out the drawer that allowed him to exchange items with the staff. He lowered the globe with reverence, then closed the drawer.

Stepping to the door, Batman picked up the globe, watching the water thaw around her. He looked up and saw Fries' eyes on him, and rose the globe a bit higher in recognition before replacing it in the drawer. Fries turned around once Batman set it down, disappearing into the fog inside his cell.

While the elevator rose out of Extreme Incarceration, Batman's eyes circled the room. Out of each of the six cells, reaching arms or screaming faces extended between the bars. The guards walked as close as they could to the center line, until they reached Freeze's cell. One approached the door and lifted the snow globe from the drawer, then held it up and nodded just as the elevator passed through to the next floor.

**XXXXXX**

As the Batmobile pulled into the cave, Alfred was waiting with a cup of tea and a bowl of hot soup. Batman exited the vehicle slowly and pulled back his cowl, letting Alfred know he was in for the night. Or day, considering the time. "Wonderful to see you again, Master Bruce. I trust that Mr. Zsasz is once again behind bars?"

Bruce took the tea and sipped it. "He is." He walked to the Batcomputer and opened a drawer in the desk, then removed a permanent marker. He took the steps down to the trophy room, past Two-Face's giant penny and the dinosaur robot, and crossed to a glass case in the corner. Inside sat a simple mannequin. Popping the cap on the marker, Bruce carefully inscribed eight names along the waistline. The plastic man had more black covering its surface than tan. The only space left untouched was the eyelids.

"What will you do if you need to replace it?" Alfred asked.

"I won't," Bruce replied, recapping the pen.

He walked back up the computer and replaced the marker in the drawer, then sat down at the desk. His mind returned to the horror he'd witnessed. Batman had seen it before, of course. The nearly endless marks covering Zsasz's body were testament to it. But something about this time… the children. He'd posed the children playing, laughing.

It had to stop.

"Alfred," Bruce said. "I have to do something."

"Yes, I've always thought the cape was a bit much, sir," Alfred said.

Bruce ran a gloved hand through his hair. "They're getting worse," he said. "Escalating."

Alfred set the tray with the bowl of soup down on the desk. "Perhaps Mr. Zsasz is an isolated case?" he asked.

Bruce picked up the bowl. "I've considered that, Alfred. But it's not just him. Nearly all of them are intensifying their crimes. Stealing more money, causing more destruction, taking more lives."

He ate a spoonful of the soup before continuing. "Arkham isn't enough anymore."

Alfred's eyebrows shot up. "Master Bruce, you aren't suggesting…?"

"No, of course not," Bruce said. "But something has to be done. We need a more permanent solution to this problem."

"You have a plan, I assume?" Alfred asked.

Bruce had another spoonful of soup. "I think I should be more hands-on with rehabilitation," he said.

Picking up the pitcher, Alfred poured himself a cup of tea. "But you're no psychiatrist, Master Bruce."

"No, I'm not," Bruce said. "But that doesn't mean I can't figure something out."

"Do you honestly believe rehabilitation will work?" Alfred asked.

Another image of Zsasz's crime scene flashed through Bruce's mind. "Not for all of them, no," he said. "But there are some, given the right push, who may be able to come back."

Alfred took another sip of tea. "Who do you mean, Master Bruce? Mister Dent?"

"No, Two-Face has been fixed before," Bruce said. "Perhaps with a few more years of separation from dichotomy. But in that time any number of disasters could occur."

"Who are you considering, then?" Alfred asked.

Bruce thought back to what he'd seen walking out of Extreme Incarceration, and booted the computer. With a few keystrokes an image of a woman in a glass tube appeared on the screen. "Batman has been making promises for some time," he said, turning the chair around. "I think it's time that he delivered."

**XXXXXX**

Victor Fries was surprised when he heard the knock at his door. There were still one thousand, three hundred and eighty-four seconds remaining until the guards brought his snow globe. "Fries," the guard said, "you've got a visitor."

Though confused, Victor followed procedure, and backed into the corner furthest from the door. The guards stood to the side, outside the cell, as a man in a heavy coat with a scarf wrapped around his face walked into the cell. The door closed behind him, and the guard opened the screen to watch the exchange.

The man pulled the scarf down, revealing his face. "Doctor Fries," he said, extending a gloved hand. "I don't know that we've ever been formally introduced. My name is Bruce Wayne."

Victor hesitated for a moment, then grasped Bruce's hand and shook it once. "I know who you are, Mister Wayne," he said. "Your company took possession of my Nora after Ferris Boyle's arrest."

Bruce nodded. "Yes, we did."

The cot creaked as Victor sat on it. "I apologize for not having any seating available," he said. "May I ask why you've come to see me?"

Bruce stuffed his hands into his coat pockets. "It's about your wife, actually," he said.

Victor leapt off the cot. His hands gripped the ends of the scarf and pulled, tightening the fabric around Bruce's throat. "What happened?" he screamed. "What have you done to Nora?"

The guards clamored to open the door, but the cold had frozen the bolts. Bruce struggled against the scarf, but Victor placed a foot on his chest and pushed, the cloth growing ever tauter. "Doctor Fries," Bruce croaked, "Nora…"

The scarf started to burn against Bruce's neck. "Nora is safe."

Victor released his hold, letting Bruce drop to the floor. "Safe?" he said. "Why would you come to me if she is 'safe?'"

A squeak screamed out of the door as the guards opened it. "Step away from Wayne, Freeze!" one of them shouted.

Bruce held up a hand, waving them away. "No!" he said. "It's alright. I understand." He rubbed at his neck, then removed the scarf and stuffed it into his pocket.

"Why are you here, Mr. Wayne?" Victor asked.

Standing, Bruce stretched his neck a bit. "As I said, I'm here about your wife."

"What about her?" Victor asked, plopping back onto the cot.

Heading to the opposite side of the room, Bruce crossed his arms. He thought about leaning against the wall, but decided against it. "You and I have a… mutual associate," he said.

Victor looked up from where he'd been staring at his bare blue feet. "You mean Batman," he said.

Bruce nodded. "He came to me, last night. Told me about how he's been promising you for quite a while that he would help you find a cure for your wife's illness."

Victor rose from the cot, started pacing the room in front of it. The guards were still standing in the doorway, their weapons trained on him, but Victor either didn't notice them or didn't care. "Empty promises from and endless nuisance," he said. "I don't care for them."

"They're not empty, Doctor Fries," Bruce said. "I'm here to fulfill that promise."

Victor turned his head to give Bruce a sideways glance. "You? What do you mean?"  
Bruce walked a bit closer to the door, but never took his eyes off Victor. "Batman asked me to put the considerable resources of Wayne Enterprises behind finding a cure for your wife's disease, and I intend to do just that."

Victor took a step forward, and despite Bruce's size, Victor still towered nearly a full head and shoulders above him. "What do you want from me?" Victor asked.

"There is no better authority on Huntington's Chorea than you," Bruce said. "My scientists aren't going to be able to figure this out without your research."

"I will not allow you to steal my work," Victor said.

Bruce's breath was rattling in front of his face, and he wrapped his arms around his torso. "Doctor Fries," he said, "I'm not trying to steal your work. I'm trying to give you the resources you need to save your wife."

Victor stared down at him. "You want me to work _with_ your team?" he asked.

Bruce nodded again. "We can't do it without you, Doctor. And I wouldn't want to."

Victor sat down on the cot again. "I appreciate the offer, Mister Wayne," he said. "But I doubt the administration here at Arkham would be willing to allow me the opportunity."

"Then it's a good thing I'm on the board," Bruce said, walking back toward the door. The guards parted to let him out of the cell, but he stopped in the doorway. "There will be guards, of course. But we'll set you up with a lab, a staff, and anything else that you need."

Bruce turned back toward the door, but another guard was standing in front of him. On impulse, Bruce reached out and took the globe from the guard's hands, then turned back into the cell. He crossed over to Victor and dropped it into his waiting hands. "We're going to save her, Doctor Fries," he said. "I promise you that."

"Victor," he said as Bruce walked out of the cell. "My name is Victor."

Bruce turned back, a small smile on his face. "Call me Bruce, Victor. I'll see you again soon."


End file.
